


Blue Velvet Dark and Stars

by glowstick_of_destiny



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: AU, Crossover, F/F, F/M, Harry Potter Crossover - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-29 21:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5142476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowstick_of_destiny/pseuds/glowstick_of_destiny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I want a jam donut. I <i>deserve</i> a donut. And every second that hat keeps talking is another second I’ve gotta wait before I get that donut.”</p><p>Jim turns in his seat at the High Table to look sidelong at Harvey. They're literally two minutes into the Sorting Hat’s speech.  "What exactly have you done to deserve one today? You haven't taught a single class yet."</p><p>Harvey grins, wordlessly casts a silencing spell over the two of them. "Well, for starters, I'm waiting til <i>after</i> we welcome the new students to get some nookie. Unlike <i>some people</i>."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Velvet Dark and Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you feel like you're taking yourself too seriously and the only thing for it is to write a Harry Potter crossover. Plus I know I could use something lighthearted after the last two episodes.
> 
> (Light on plot. Mostly I just wanted to imagine the gang at Hogwarts.)
> 
> I'm happy to talk in the comments (or on my side tumblr sometimetodayforpreference).

Jim's heart's still racing as the door clicks shut. He slumps back against the place where the door used to be, knowing he'll only find a blank wall there now. The door will reappear when it's been long enough for him to leave without arousing suspicion and when the coast is clear. 

God bless the Room of Requirement. 

He’s about to summon a mirror, but the room beats him to it. He’s a mess, he thinks, fighting back a smile. Hair looks like he got in a fight with a blue pixy, bite marks scattered down the side of his neck and across his collarbone. 

He runs a hand over his neck. The bruised skin is still sensitive, and he can’t help but remember the feel of lips on his skin. 

Hell if he knows what he was thinking. It had been rash and reckless and incredibly stupid, even for him. 

And he’s already wondering whether it was a one-off, or if he’ll get to have another go at it. 

.x. 

“I want a jam donut. I _deserve_ a donut. And every second that hat keeps talking is another second I’ve gotta wait before I get that donut.” 

Jim turns in his seat at the High Table to look sidelong at Harvey. The guy seems nice enough—he’d taken Jim out for a few pints the night before, and he’d told Jim he used to be an auror, too, which had led to another round and a good bit of reminiscing. But they’re literally two minutes into the Sorting Hat’s speech. "What exactly have you done to deserve one today? You haven't taught a single class yet." 

Harvey grins, wordlessly casts a silencing spell over the two of them. "Well, for starters, I'm waiting til _after_ we welcome the new students to get some nookie. Unlike _some people_." 

Jim tries for his best stoic expression. "I don't know what you're talking about." 

"Don't give me that. You've got like ten hickeys--" 

_Shit._ "Two." His auror reflexes are the only thing that stops his hand from reflexively going to his neck. 

"Two I can _see_. But relax, kid. Your glamour's working just fine. No one else can see 'em." 

"You check everyone you run into for glamours?" 

"Nah, you were smiling. I knew something was up. Don't get me wrong,” he adds, holding up a hand, “I'm happy for you. Looks like you needed it." 

"Shut the hell up. Or I'll take all the jam donuts." But he's smiling back. 

"Just-- you're new here, so maybe you don't get how this all works. But you gotta be careful." 

Jim rolls his eyes. "I'm not exactly planning to take out an ad in the Daily Prophet." 

Harvey puts his hands up, conciliatory. "I know, I know. Okay, look-- we look out for our own here," he gestures side to side, indicating the staff at the High Table, "But you ain't part of that group yet. People are gonna be suspicious, and they're gonna have to feel you out before they accept you. Can take a whole year, and some folks don't even last that long. Any slip-ups you make, any dark secrets you got-- they're gonna make it their business to dig up." 

"I spent the last five years as an auror, and I'm still standing here,” Jim says, crossing his arms and leveling Harvey with a look usually reserved for suspects trying to bullshit him. "I think I can look after myself." 

"Yeah, see, out there?" he gestures expansively. "The whole auror force has your back, working towards a common goal. Even in a firefight, you've got your partner to save your ass. And the bad guys come with mug shots, just in case you ain't sure which ones they are. At Hogwarts? Let's just say not everyone's here because they love seeing a kid's face light up when they teach 'em something new. And tenure makes you pretty much untouchable--" 

“This is a goddamn school!" Jim's got his fists balled so tightly his fingernails dig into his hands painfully way before his brain catches up and adds that pounding said fist on the table indignantly to punctuate his response isn't the best way to go right now. "These are kids' lives, their futures! People shouldn’t be using it as a political tool, a stepping stone to something better-- they have no _right_ —” 

"Yeah, yeah. You're preaching to choir, kid. The hell do you think I'm still here for?" Jim can't argue with that. Doesn't mean he doesn't want to, though. He's still full of righteous indignation and no good outlet for it, no way out of this chair til several hours from now. 

Harvey goes on, apparently unaware or uncaring that he's hit a nerve. "Kid, you're the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, for chrissakes. You gotta take things as they are, not how you want 'em to be. Because unless you come in here with your eyes wide open, you're gonna get eaten alive. 

"The last guy in your shoes? Out in under a year. Guy before that, two months. They're already makin' bets on how long you'll last." 

"Yeah, 'cause the job's cursed, right?" He knows he sounds angry, knows Harvey's trying to help. Knows he's found an outlet for the tension probably written in every line of his body and he's gonna take it, even if it's not fair, not a good idea. "Bullshit. I've been on cursebreaking teams, and the pattern, the circumstances are all wrong--" 

Harvey scoffs. "It ain't cursed. It's 'cause people in high places got a vested interest in who's got the position, and a lot of 'em, they don't want it to be you." 

Brilliant. Just when he thought he was done with trying not to let office politics get him fired every other week. Well, that and his tendency to run his mouth. "The hell do they care for?" 

"Think about it," Harvey says, tone didactic. "You're teaching kids how to defend 'emselves from the dark arts. Evil." He makes zombie hands at Jim, just in case he hadn't gotten the idea. "Sure, some of that's straight from a textbook and how to flick and swish faster than the other guy. But you're also teaching 'em what evil _is_. What it looks like. That, my friend, is pure ideology, and that shit gets political real fast. 

"Listen. Let me tell who not to piss off before you go do something real stupid before we even get to eat, huh?" 

Of course, Harvey doesn't actually wait for assent from Jim before he barrels on. "Fish," he says, jerking his thumb in her direction like half the wizarding world didn't know who she was. "Professor of Transfiguration. Sure, she's charming and smoking hot--" 

Jim raises an eyebrow. "Aren't you engaged now?" 

"Yeah, but I still got eyes, don't I? Besides, Scottie thinks so, too. Says I'm lucky she met me first, or she might've ended up with Fish instead." 

Of course she did. "I'm beginning to see how you two wound up together." 

Harvey just gives him a shit-eating grin. "You're getting me off-subject, though. 

“Anyway, Fish. Hands-down the most dangerous person in this place, and she holds a grudge like no other. That being said, she's a good friend to have. Always looks out for her own." 

"Kean, Potions Master. But you already know her, don't you?" Harvey waggles his eyebrows suggestively. 

And that's not even worth acknowledging with an eye roll, he decides. "Yeah, she helped me find this job, actually." 

"And you're not banging anymore?" 

"She's with Montoya now," Jim says slowly, like he might explain to a child that no, most dragons do not make good pets, because they'll likely grow to twice the size of your living room, at least. 

"Yeah, see those ain't mutually exclusive." 

"No," Jim grits out, "We're not." 

"Well," Harvey says, smiling, "That's one thing that's gonna make your life easier around here, at least. 

"Montoya. Care of Magical Creatures, 'case Kean didn't already tell you that. No hard feelings there, then?" 

"Jesus, Barbara and I dated in _seventh year_. We've been good friends ever since." 

"Uh-huh." Harvey looks decidedly unimpressed. "What about that time the social pages said you were engaged, like three years after that?" 

Jim raises an eyebrow. "You read the social pages?" 

"Answer the question." 

"Her parents are dicks." Understatement of the year. "She needed their money to get through her independent research after her apprenticeship." Because she'd needed to play straight and straight-laced after the press had run a photo of her with another girl and her dad lost his shit and threatened to completely cut her off. 

"Yeah, does Montoya know that's what went down?" 

"I'm assuming Barbara told her--" 

"Never, never fucking assume things here," he says, jabbing Jim in the chest a few times to punctuate his first words. "Jesus. You got a long way to go, kid." Which is about when Jim decides he needs to bite his tongue for the rest of the conversation. Because so help him, if Harvey calls him 'kid' one more time, he can't be held responsible for what comes out of his mouth next.

"But seriously, I'd make sure you're square with Montoya. She's one of the good guys, as this place goes, but she's in Hufflepuff for reason. You fuck with Barbara, or she _thinks_ you fucked with Barbara, and you'll find out first hand if she's still got Hungarian horntail dealers an owl away. 

"Doherty, Charms," Harvey says, jerking him thumb at a younger man with his hair slicked back in a pompadour. "Don't be fooled by the subject or his pretty boy rep. He's one nasty piece of work. 

"Kringle, librarian." Jim turns to look down the table, but Harvey swats him on the shoulder to get his attention again. "She ain't here right now, but she's a ginger, has a an old school hairdo. You can't miss her. 

"Much nicer than the last one we had. Helped me fix up the shitshow that was our previous history book selection, all on her own time. Used to be all shit written by white guys with more money than god, born at the dawn of time—five pages in and you’d be fast asleep. She's a good kid. But _do not_ fuck with the organization system she has going on for the books. Also, she may or may not be banging Doherty. 

"Thompkins. Mediwitch." He raises a hand to head Jim off. "Don't bother looking-- she ain't here either. But short fuse like yours, I reckon it's only a matter of time you wind up in her wing of the castle with a broken nose. 

"God knows this place wouldn't run without her. Keeps the students alive _and_ she’s a good enough people person to help keep some of the staff from killing each other, too. Don't make her a pushover either though, and I respect that. 

"Nygma." He wipes a hand over his mouth, apparently at a loss for words. "Weird. Really fucking weird. Thompkin's apprentice-- got a year or two to go, and who knows if he'll stick around after that. Do not, I repeat _do not_ get him started on riddles. Won't fucking shut up if you do. Massive crush on Kringle. Literally everyone knows. Including her. If you ask me, it ain't gonna happen. 

"Cobblepot, Professor of Divination and new head of Slytherin House. If everything else I say tonight goes in one ear and out the other, at least remember this: whatever you do, you stay the hell away from him." 

Jim chokes on his butterbeer, starts coughing violently. Harvey thumps him on the back, probably a little harder than necessary. 

Jim tries to let surprise color his voice when he next speaks, hoping he can pass that off as the excuse for his reaction. "I thought you said Fish was the most dangerous person here? He doesn't seem so bad." 

"Yeah, _seem_. And Fish’s the reason you wanna steer clear. Guy's an upstart-- first year teaching, and he's already nabbed Head of House. When Falcone retired last year-- guy used to have your position-- everyone thought it was gonna be Fish, no question. Fish included. 

"Thing about first year teachers, though," Harvey says, leaning in conspiratorially. Entirely for effect, Jim figures. "They don't always last. So she's gonna go after him with everything she has. Anyone who makes friends with him, they're gonna make an enemy of Fish. And trust me, that ain't something you wanna do. 

"'Sides, there's a lotta folks don't want him to have the job in the first place.  
Slytherin Head of House, and he ain’t a pureblood. That’s not gonna sit well with a lotta families. Not that they would’ve liked Fish any better. Same old families tend to have a hernia when someone in power ain’t a pureblood, tend to have the same reaction when they ain’t white.

" _And_ ," Harvey continues, throwing up his hands, "Like that ain't enough for folks to want to burn him at the stake-- the shit he wants for his curriculum, it's this lovechild of classic divination and some muggle math and science. Wants to teach kids to do experiments and make statistical models and shit. _That_ ain’t gonna go over well with anybody, even folks who call ‘emselves liberal. 

"Just—I already know I’m gonna have to spend a lotta energy trying to do damage control once Scottie decides she wants to be friends with him. Which is the worst idea, but I’m sure as shit not gonna be able to talk her out of it. Tell me I’m not gonna have to babysit you on top of that, yeah?” 

“I don’t need a babysitter.” His voice isn't completely level, but it doesn't come out as a growl, either, and he's pretty damn proud of himself for that. 

“That’s not—okay, tell you what: I’m gonna tell you ‘bout the rest of the staff. And then I’m gonna have some donuts. And let you actually _meet_ everyone. If that don’t convince you to take my advice, hell, you’re beyond my help anyway. 

“Gilzean, Arithmancy. Don’t think he likes me much. Hard to say if that’s ‘cause he’s sweet on Fish or just ‘cause of my sparkling personality." 

"What's him being sweet on Fish got to do with anything?" Jim asks, curiosity getting the better of his resolve. 

"We had a thing, back in the day," Harvey says smiling, faraway look in his eyes. "Long time ago. Means I know what I'm talking about when I tell you to stay on her good side. 

“Maroni," Harvey continues, gesturing towards a man at the far end of the table that Jim recognizes from photos in the Prophet. "Ancient Runes. What he lacks in brains, he makes up for in being a mean bastard. Also someone you shouldn’t piss off. 

"Le Fay," he says, nodding towards a slight blonde woman. "Pretty sure that last name's made up, but everyone just calls her Liza. Herbology. Looks like a sweet kid, but she's thick as thieves with Fish, which means she ain't." He lowers his voice, though he must know full well there's no need. "Rumor has it she's the reason Falcone finally retired. But if people know more, they ain't sharing with the class." 

"Pennyworth. Ain't here right now either. Groundskeeper in name only. Basically, anything this place needs to keep running, he does. Grounds, castle maintenance, wards, runs the whole damn kitchen on the house elves' day off. And one-man security detail. So don't get on his bad side, either." 

"Scottie," he says, nodding down the table at a smiling redhead. "Saving the best for last, of course. Muggle Studies and Head of Gryffindor. Muggleborn herself, and she makes sure everyone knows it. You say shit about anyone who ain’t got pureblood status and she hears about it, you’re gonna land yourself a week’s detention. Same deal for any bully who tries to start shit, honestly. Hell, even Peeves is afraid of her. But I got my suspicions they join up sometimes, when someone on the staff pisses her off and she can’t do jack shit about it without burning the rule book she likes to throw at people. 

“Aaand I think that’s the last one,” he says, nodding as a pale brown-haired boy takes off the sorting hat and crosses the Great Hall to join his fellow Gryffindors. Last name W-something. Jim had only been half-listening. 

“Now, five minutes or so for Essen to introduce you and Cobblepot and say something encouraging about this year, and then we get to eat. About damn time.” That at least, Jim can agree with wholeheartedly. 

.x. 

A few hours of small talk and playing nice with that house of wolves and he's down to his last bit of bit of self control and tact. Which he uses to politely decline Barbara's offer to join some of the staff for a nightcap so he can head straight back to his quarters instead. 

He’s slipped off his robe and is starting on his shirt when he looks over and sees Oswald Cobblepot, legs dangling off his desk. 

“ _Jesus,_ " he says, lowering the wand he'd raised reflexively and wiping a hand down his mouth. Because he's nine kinds of not in the mood for surprise company. "How the hell did you get in here?” 

“Discreetly," he says, with a small smile that might look innocent if it were on anyone else. "Don’t worry.” 

“Right," he says, crossing him arms over his chest. Because he does not have the patience for this. It has absolutely nothing to so with suddenly feeling very conscious of the skin his half-unbuttoned shirt is bearing. He crosses the room, stops a foot or so away from Oswald. His unimpressed face is much more formidable from close-up. "Your quarters are in the dungeon, so don’t try to tell me you walked halfway through the whole goddamn castle as everyone was heading back from the feast and nobody saw you.” 

“I didn’t just walk." _What kind of idiot do you take me for_ is left unsaid. "If you must know, I apparated.” 

“No one can apparate within—” 

“In terms of the physics of the ways the castle’s wards interact with the spellwork, there's no reason one shouldn’t be able to apparate within the castle grounds. I suspect," he continues, tone didactic and a bit smug, "That the rumor that apparition was not possible here may have originally been started to deter students out after curfew from attempting to apparate back into their dorms and winding up splinched. And then someone must have decided it wasn't a bad idea to deliberately reinforce this misinformation for security purposes. But I can assure you, it’s entirely possible. At least when both your starting point and destination are within the castle grounds." 

“So, what?" There's a small voice saying this is probably how Barbara feels when he tells her about the stunts he'd pulled to close up the latest case. He ignores it. "You did a few calculations, and thought hey, I might die if I’m wrong, but in theory, this should be fine? I’ll just take a confident go at it?” 

“I’m hardly the only one of us prone to risk-taking,” Oswald says, lips quirking up in an almost-smile. Which is the last thing Jim needs when he's standing so close to him. 

Jim sighs. “Why are you here?” 

“We needed to talk.” 

“You couldn’t have, I don’t know, found some way to tell me whatever you have to say without breaking into my private quarters?” 

“We needed to talk _in private._ ” 

“Okay," Jim says, crossing his arms. "So talk.” The words come out angrier, terser than he'd intended. He'd wanted to see Oswald again. And now he's here, and Jim can hear how closed off and defensive he sounds. But between his exhaustion and typical lack of grace with words, he can't seem to stop fucking this up. 

"I wanted to discuss our association, whatever, if anything, that entails, moving forward--" 

Well, there was an opportunity to put things right. "Yeah, so I was thinking--" 

Oswald holds up a hand to head him off. "Before you say anything, I should tell you, showing me any kind of friendship, it's not a good idea if you value--" 

Or not."Yeah, I know.Harvey told all about you. How you pissed off Fish and you're trying to rewrite the entire divination discipline by adding muggle practices, so you're kind of a pariah. I got it." 

Oswald looks away. "I won't deny any of that, although I do wish you could have heard it from me first. If you want to end our association in light of this new information, I would understand." 

"I don't care." Jim says firmly. 

Oswald's eyes flick back to his own, searching his face. "For all its splendor, this school can be an unforgiving place. I don't want you to do something that could damage your relationship with the other staff and your career beyond repair--" 

"Look," Jim says, impatient to get this over with if this is the way it's gonna go. "If you want this to be a one-time thing, just tell me. I won't make a scene." 

Oswald stares back, gaze intense, eyes bright. "Are you implying that otherwise you would like it to be more than a one-time thing?" 

"Well," Jim says, grinning now, "I was gonna tell you that in no uncertain terms, only you cut me off--" 

Oswald's smiling back now. "So what-- what is this going to look like?" 

"Whatever we want." 

"What do you want?"

"Well, if you can apparate inside the grounds, I'm sure we could sneak off for a few actual dates." 

"So you think should we keep things a secret," Oswald says, voice level, though it sounds like it's taking some effort to keep it that way. 

Right. He wrecks his brain for something to do with his hands that isn't cupping Oswald's face, reassuring him with touch. He settles for shoving both hands in his pockets. "I don't know about you, but I don't really want other professors-- much less students-- feeling like they have the right to give me their two cents on my love life because they know I'm seeing someone." 

"Seventh years can be brutal." Oswald's grinning broadly now, the kind of smile that's holding back barely contained laughter. Which means Jim can breathe again. 

"I've _been_ a seventh year here. I would've given my professors hell if I had that kind of ammunition." 

"I suspect you gave them hell anyway. But I agree; both of our lives will be far less complicated if we can be discreet about this. I just needed to know what your motivation for that decision was." 

Jim's face falls. "Did you really think I would be ashamed to be seen with you?" 

"Your pride's just as easily wounded as my own, I see. You Gryffindors. But can see I needn't have doubted you." 

"I never said I was--" 

A smirk, this time. "You didn't have to. At any rate, I'd very much like to see what your idea of a proper date is at some point. But I think right now, I'd like to have you on this desk. If you're amenable to the idea." 

"Very," Jim says, pulse racing as he closes the distance between them and steps between Oswald's legs. 

Jim's slides his hands up the outside of Oswald's thighs, the anticipation making him lightheaded. Oswald bites his lip, and _christ_ he's in way over his head on this one. 

And then Oswald hooks his good leg around Jim's waist, pulling him closer, and kisses him hard, and Jim stops thinking entirely. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from a song by the Weepies. (Shut up the fact that the ceiling at Hogwarts is full of stars when night falls is the coolest shit ever.)
> 
> Also, it's been a while since I read the HP books, so apologies if I've made any mistakes with writing the HP world.


End file.
